“Now bite as hard as you can, John. ’ Martha looked up, belligerence in her tone. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. ‘That’s right. "I cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears; "indeed, indeed, I cannot. After all, you may easily come to fetch Mrs Ibstock when you need her.
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